


how evergreen

by theworldunseen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, F/M, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:40:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28353309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theworldunseen/pseuds/theworldunseen
Summary: It was the worst thing Brienne ever had to do. But she had to do it.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 33
Kudos: 144





	how evergreen

**Author's Note:**

> i'm working on another fic i want to post before new year's, but then i was listening to "champagne problems" by taylor swift and had to write this. title from the song.

It was the worst thing Brienne ever had to do. But she had to do it.

She was going to wait until after the New Year, when they’d both be back in King’s Landing. Being on Tarth, with just her dad and her brother and time to fill, had only strengthened her resolve that it needed to be done. 

But then it was New Year’s Eve and her dad was having a small party and Jaime had surprised her and walked through the door, a big, goofy smile on his face.

He still took her breath away. 

She still had to do it.

They hugged and they sat on the couch and they ate little appetizers and Jaime told her all about what the Lannisters had been up to over the holidays. Brienne tried to listen, but mostly she built her courage. She was so young — that was part of why she had to do this — but she felt so old.

Maybe she ought to wait until the morning. Maybe she should give herself one more night before she ruined everything. 

Then she looked at him, and his open and hopeful face, and she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Jaime, do you want to get some air?”

They went out the back door, on to the porch and then on to the sand. Jaime held her hand and looked up at the stars.

“You never see this many in King’s Landing,” he said.

She took one more breath — the last one she’d take before she did this — and then let go of his hand.

“Jaime, I think we need to stop seeing each other.” 

He stepped away like he had burned her.

“Brienne —” She shook her head.

“I’ve thought about it a lot” — her traitorous voice cracked there — “and I think it’s for the best.”

“Not for me,” he said. Jaime was even beautiful when he cried, the moonlight hitting his wet face just so. “It’s not what’s best for me. I love you. I want to spend our lives together.” 

He put his hand in his pocket. He pulled out a velvet box. His mother’s ring.

“I got this when I was home. I wasn’t going to ask tonight. But I was going to ask.”

She wiped her own tears then, the back of her wrists failing to clear her eyes. “Jaime,” she said. “I’m so sorry. But this is what’s best for me.”

He reached for her hand again, and she let him take it. “But you love me.”

“I do.” She couldn’t lie. “But this life you see for us … I don’t want it. I don’t want to be married before I’m 25. I don’t want to go to holidays at your father’s house with our two kids and worry they’re going to break something priceless. I don’t want to tie myself down. I want to try dumb things, and smart things, and bad things, and travel, and experiment and see. I don’t even know who I am yet.”

“But I love you,” Jaime said. He did, she knew he did. She shook her head. “Isn’t that enough?” He promised to change. He promised they’d never go to Casterly Rock, that they didn’t have to get married, that he’d never tie her down.

“I just can’t Jaime.”

He crashed into her arms then, and they cried into each other’s shoulders, consoling each other in the quiet as the water crashed into the sand. Eventually she heard people celebrate the New Year; they were still standing together. 

A long time after Jaime stopped crying, he said, “I don’t want to leave this beach, because then it’s really over.” Brienne nodded. “I’ll always love you.”

“You won’t,” Brienne said. “You’ll meet some beautiful someone who’ll give you all the things you want, and you’ll forget all about me.” 

He shook his head.

“I don’t think so.”

—

Life went on. Brienne tried to stay close with all their friends, but it was only natural that some went to Jaime and some went to Brienne. If Jaime got more of them, that was fine. She’d taken so much from him, she couldn’t take people, too.

She had to do all the things she’d told Jaime she needed to do. Otherwise she’d have lied to him and broken his heart for nothing. 

So she spent two years in Dorne, six months in Qarth. She went to grad school in Winter Town, and got a job in the Riverlands. She made new acquaintances and new friends. She had sex with people of all genders, and found out all the things she liked and didn’t liked. She tried all types of food, had her heart broken by two people, and broke her leg running a marathon. 

And mostly she didn’t think of Jaime at all. 

Except very infrequently at night, when soft feelings could slip in. But she was sure that was just the way everyone thought of their first love. The first person who’d held them in bed, who’d told them they loved them, who’d made them feel cherished and special. Sometimes she’d look at old photos from college and think about how young they looked. She was just a kid. If she’d let Jaime propose, if she’d said yes, who would she be now? Still a kid, in a way. She knew she’d made the right choice.

She refused to ask how Jaime was when she spoke to the few people who were still friendly with both of them. Instead she checked his social media very rarely, maybe twice a year. He seemed happy. He was still handsome. He still smiled. He experimented with a beard on and off for a few years. He had nieces and nephews. He dated people. She knew she’d made the right choice.

At 33, she ended up back in King’s Landing. It felt nice, to return to a place, but also strange — she felt like she was hiding from the ghosts she’d left the first time she’d run away. 

Part of her was tired of running. She was ready to have a home, a community. Roots.

Seven months. She lived in King’s Landing for seven months before she saw Jaime on the subway one day.

He was sitting in the seat across from her, reading a book. A romance novel, from the looks of it. His hair was longer than it had ever been when they were younger, almost hitting his shoulders. He had big, unfashionable headphones. 

He still took her breath away. 

Before she could decide what to do, he looked up. She saw the moment he saw her. He closed his book and smiled.

“Brienne.”

“Jaime.”

They got off at Brienne’s stop, which, it turned out, was also Jaime’s. He took her to his favorite coffee shop, which she’d been meaning to try. It was a block from her place.

They caught up. It was lovely. It was safe.

The next week they got beers. A week after, they got ice cream. They told each other about their jobs, their families, their favorite TV shows. Brienne’s brother and his partner had just had twins. Jaime didn’t speak to his father, hadn’t for years.

They didn’t talk about the dangerous things. They didn’t mention their relationship, or their breakup, or any promises of always loving each other.

When Brienne told one of her college friends about their little meetups, two months later, they freaked out. “Is it weird? Is he seeing someone? Are you seeing someone? Have you talked about it?” It wasn’t. He wasn’t, she wasn’t. They hadn’t.

One night, the power went out in Brienne’s building during a summer thunderstorm. It was too hot to stay until it got fixed. Jaime was the only person she knew in KL.

“Could I crash on your couch?” she texted.

“Of course.”

By the time she’d walked to his, a mere four blocks away, she was soaking wet.

“You should have taken a cab,” he said, as he ran to find her towels. 

“I’m so sorry for putting you out like this,” she said. His apartment was well-air conditioned. She shivered as he wrapped her in his soft fabric. 

They sat on the couch. She wondered if she was ruining the leather.

“I’m not the person I was a decade ago,” she said out of nowhere. Jaime seemed surprised.

“Me neither,” he said. 

“I just” — she’d thought about this conversation a million times, but it was so hard to actually have — “I’m not the girl you loved then. And you’re not that boy.” This Jaime was softer, more sure of himself. He didn’t have to entertain everyone. He was less desperate for her love. She wanted to give it anyway.

“I know,” he said. “I’m glad you got to do all the things you wanted to do. I did too. You were right, to do what you did.”

“I’m glad, too,” she said. She was. “But when I saw you on the subway, the first thing I thought was, ‘Thank god I found him again.’”

And then he kissed her. She was still wet and sweaty. His hands got caught in her damp hair. She clung to him and his warmth. She didn’t realize she was crying until he was wiping her face again, in between kisses. He was crying, too. 

“Is this foolish?” she asked later. They were in his bed, in the dark, listening to the thunderstorm still raging outside. 

“No,” he said. “But I’d do it even if I thought it was.”

The ring that had sat in Jaime’s pocket a decade ago now belonged to his brother’s wife, so a year later, he picked out something new. 


End file.
